or avoid field duty or any of the details which so constantly took me away from you.  Also I began to understand your impatience of garrison life, of the monotony of the place, of the climate, of the people.  But all this, which I could not help, did not account for those dreadful days together when I could see that every minute was widening the breach between us.

“Alixe—­your letter has brought it all back, vivid, distressing, exasperating; and this time I know that I could have done nothing to render you unhappy, because the time when I was responsible for such matters is past.

“And this—­forgive me if I say it—­arouses a doubt in me—­the first honest doubt I have had of my own unshared culpability.  Perhaps after all a little more was due from you than what you brought to our partnership—­a little more patience, a little more appreciation of my own inexperience and of my efforts to make you happy.  You were, perhaps, unwittingly exacting—­even a little bit selfish.  And those sudden, impulsive caprices for a change of environment—­an escape from the familiar—­were they not rather hard on me who could do nothing—­who had no choice in the matter of obedience to my superiors?

     “Again and again I asked you to go to some decent climate and wait
     for me until I could get leave.  I stood ready and willing to make
     any arrangement for you, and you made no decision.

“Then when Barnard’s command moved out we had our last distressing interview.  And, if that night I spoke of your present husband and asked you to be a little wiser and use a little more discretion to avoid malicious comment—­it was not because I dreamed of distrusting you—­it was merely for your own guidance and because you had so often complained of other people’s gossip about you.

     “To say I was stunned, crushed, when I learned of what had happened
     in my absence, is to repeat a trite phrase.  What it cost me is of
     no consequence now; what it is now costing you I cannot help.

     “Yet, your letter, in every line, seems to imply some strange
     responsibility on my part for what you speak of as the degrading
     position you now occupy.

“Degradation or not—­let us leave that aside; you cannot now avoid being his wife.  But as for any hostile attitude of society in your regard—­any league or coalition to discredit you—­that is not apparent to me.  Nor can it occur if your personal attitude toward the world is correct.  Discretion and circumspection, a happy, confident confronting of life—­these, and a wise recognition of conditions, constitute sufficient safeguard for a woman in your delicately balanced position.

“And now, one thing more.  You ask me to meet you at Sherry’s for a conference.  I don’t care to, Alixe.  There is nothing to be said except what can be written on letter-paper.